Little Tim

Little Tim,

was always busy, that was him.

One day he let the air out of all four tires of the neighbor’s car.

It was a surprise hearing the hollering about it from afar.

He lived talking cars, trucks, and all motorized equipment from snowmobiles, to dirt bikes, to every brand of 4-wheeler.

Then when it came to machines, he was a real wheeler-dealer.

He had them all from a very young age, all around the yard.

Much earlier than most, he was zooming around and it made it hard for the nieces and nephews that could ride it but couldn’t own one.

He was the baby of the family, our son.

“My baby,” I said, Chuck’s, Carries, Pat’s, and even Steve called him.

We all took him around, and Gina would say, “We couldn’t go out on a date without Tim.

Are we better now then?

Most people know that have had someone special die when

they are so young, it shouldn’t have happened. I was just ten

when my father died. Three of Tim's four girls were grown.

Young women just starting their life. One grandson on loan

to his grandmother. He was a fun and loving dad

and the girls were always glad

to spend time with him.

That was Tim.

Special, and loved by so many. I miss our talks, even though

many times it was about trucks, machines of some sort you know.

I did get to catch up on the girls and the grand. He loved his children

and because his girls were still young, he was planning on more grandchildren.

He was a great-grandpa, dad, brother, and friend

and in the end

it showed. I am better off having known him.

We are all lucky to have known Tim.

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Published first by Family Stories on Medium